


The Vessel

by Schmittens



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Dreams and memories, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Masturbation, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, POV Second Person Limited Dean, Possession, Reader-Insert, Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut, Swearing, Voyeurism, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 00:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmittens/pseuds/Schmittens
Summary: You stumble out of bed. Looking up your eyes meet that of a stranger's through the glass in front of you. You take a breath in to scream but nothing comes out. The woman is staring slack jawed at you as well and then it hits you. The woman though the glass is you, but at the same time it's not.Wait, what?You barely recognize your face, fuck you look at least five years older.Dean hears a commotion and comes to make sure you're ok.He calls your name out to get your attention. Only problem is that's not your name. Not even close.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a Supernatural fic, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Special shout out to JEP (you know who you are) thank you for everything!  
This wouldn't have been possible without you.

Your eyes flutter open to look at your ceiling. The stupid paint is peeling again. You only painted that two weeks ago, though.  
Weird.  
You shake it off, because at this point in your life it just seems to be fucking typical. You turn your head and stretch your limbs out. They creak and groan in protest. Sure you’re not that young, but your body doesn't usually feel this awful. You push the heavy comforter off of you. It’s colder than you thought and you shiver from leaving your cocoon of warmth and comfort. As you sit up, the blood rushes to your head and a wave of dizziness washes over you. You were apparently closer to the edge than you thought though and fall as you lose your balance.

You stumble out of bed and your feet hit the cold wooden floor. To stop yourself from falling completely you brace your hands on the wall. Looking up, your eyes meet that of a stranger’s through the glass in front of you. You take a breath in to scream, but nothing comes out. The woman is staring slack jawed at you as well and then it hits you.  
No.  
Recognition.  
No no no no no … It’s you.  
The woman through the glass is you; but at the same time it’s not. You touch your face, and the hand mirrors your own. It’s a mirror. It’s your reflection.  
OH GOD.

At the word, searing pain rips through your brain and you see yourself, feel a presence pushing your consciousness down, to a small little ball. It doesn’t hurt you, it’s warm and bright and you feel goodness radiating off it. It merely steals the space you were occupying in your body. But it’s not there anymore.

Wait, what?  
It makes no sense. What makes even less sense is the fact that you barely recognize your face. Fuck you look at least five years older. Your hair is darker than you remember and your eyes, although still vibrant have dulled a bit and you look tired. - no; exhausted. You look fucking exhausted.

Raking a hand through your hair, you sigh. What the fuck is gong on? You catch a glimpse of the sunlight streaming through your window, the light temporarily making you close your eyes. Another pain rips through your head and you’re overwhelmed with a vision.

_The blinding sun hits you right in the eyes as the car turns a bend and the sky opens up on the road in front of you. You turn your head, but you aren’t fast enough. Blue dots dance in your vision. You feel like a passenger in your own body and mind. You have never experienced this before, it’s all new, but somehow feels familiar. But it’s you. It’s your body. It’s your memory, but not._   
_ What the fuck?_

_You turn to the driver. Dean. The name is instantly there in your mind. Feelings of warmth, passion and love follow his name. The only problem is, is you don’t know this man._   
_ “Hey Princess,” he says. His voice is gravelly and raw. His scent hits you next. Mint gum, gunpowder and leather. He smells like heaven. Fuck he’s hot. Chiseled jaw, perfect amount of scruff, muscular forearms and thick thighs. He holds himself proud and confident, possibly a little cocky, but on him, well shit, it’s really attractive. If you could magically pick the attributes for your dream guy, he would be it._   
_ “Hey yourself,” you say. It doesn’t feel like you talking though. You try to turn yourself away from this drool worthy Dean person, but your body doesn’t respond. It’s just a dream, you say to yourself. It feels so real though; more like a memory. Just you and Dean driving out on the open road in baby with the windows down and Highway to Hell blaring in your ears._   
_ Wait, baby?_

_Instantly you know it’s Dean’s nickname for the car. It’s a ‘67 Chevy Impala and it’s friggin beautiful. You’re not really a car person, but you know it’s special._   
_ Your right hand starts playing with the wind currents and you watch as you go through the motions, not entirely in control of your body. Your hand is being forced back by the wind when you raise your palm out and spread your fingers to play with the current. Your hand feels cold, but it doesn’t bother you, it feels nice as the sun warms the rest of you._   
_ Dean turns the AC/DC song louder because it’s one of his favourites. You start to sing along with his off-key singing after a giggle escapes your lips and you and Dean look at each other. His piercing green eyes meet yours and he smiles a genuine smile that reaches his eyes. You don’t know why but you know these smiles are rare and it makes you smile back._

_You feel blissfully happy. So fucking happy it hurts._

Suddenly you’re back. Your breath leaves you and you collapse onto the cold hardwood floor of your bedroom with a loud thump. Your breathing comes in gasps as you try to process something; anything. You want to cry, you want to scream; hell you’d take anything other than this blank thousand yard stare you know is stuck on your face.  
What just happened?

The door slams open to your bedroom and you turn to look at the intruder. As far as your concerned you live alone.

Dean. Dean is standing in your door. Wait, wasn’t that a dream? It couldn’t be a memory; you didn’t make the memory. But, somehow, you were there; you were in it. Your head is about to explode it hurts so much. There’s too much information flying around. All of it impossible. You barely register it, but Dean calls you a name. It’s not your name, not even close.

“Y/N,” you say in a whisper as he rushes towards you, concern etched on his face. “My name is Y/N.”

Darkness clouds your vision as you feel Dean’s strong arms wrap around your body and prevents your head from hitting the floor. The last thing you note is he smells like heaven. More specifically, he smells like mint gum, gunpowder and leather.

**...**

“Sam!” Dean calls out with you cradled in his arms. His mind is racing as he feels you against his body. You’re cold; so cold. Sam comes running into the bedroom and sees Dean holding you.  
“Hurry, we need to get her somewhere NOW!” Dean says as he is already pushing past Sam with you in his arms.  
They run to the Impala and in record time have it on the road.  
Shit, Dean thinks. What the fuck is going on?  
Who the hell is Y/N?

**...**

You open your eyes and you’re in unfamiliar territory. It looks to be an old building, but well preserved. You recognize the architecture as mid to late thirties. Then it hits you. The bunker. The name is suddenly there, but you have no idea what it means. Your head is still pounding. It hurts so much you want to cry, but you know that will only make it worse. Your body does the only rational thing it can think of.  
You throw up all over yourself.  
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You take a minute to let the nausea dissipate then you begin to look for something to clean yourself off with, but there’s nothing nearby. You’re so consumed with the thought that you decide to take off the clothing instead. It will be way easier to clean them and yourself. Maybe find a bathroom, because right now you feel like a fucking mess. You fumble with the buttons and try to undo your shirt without touching the puke that is covering your top. With no warning your eyes roll back in your head, as you feel the dull pain rip through you again.

_“Sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me.” He playfully swats your hands away from your shirt and undoes the buttons for you. When your shirt is completely undone, he grips the two sides and pulls you into him, bringing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. You can’t help it, you moan into him and you feel him smile against you._   
_ You find yourself in sudden need. It is no longer a matter of want. You need to feel his skin against yours. You need to feel him everywhere. You need him inside of you. Dean takes a step back once he has you completely naked._   
_ God damnit. You rip his shirt off of him and your hands trace down his abs. He’s warm and solid, god you could just touch him forever. Fuck he looks good. His muscles twitch under your light graze. But it all feels so wrong and you feel uncomfortable that you’re not in control._   
_ “You’ve never looked better,” Dean says, smiling at you. “This might be my favourite thing you’ve ever worn.” You want to hide yourself, but you’re not in control. You’re still just a passenger on this ride._   
_ “If you had your way, we’d never wear clothes.” You say to Dean, rolling your eyes._   
_ “Now that’s the best goddamn idea you’ve ever had.” Dean says, smirking at you as his hands dip into the waistband of his pants._

You’re back in the bunker, covered in puke and half dressed. Gross.  
What the fuck just happened? That was weird.  
Then it hits you like a brick. Dean. Dean was in your bedroom earlier. Dean probably brought you here. Dean is real.  
Oh god.  
Dean is here. Oh fuck, what if he finds you here standing in puke and half naked? You’ve never even actually even met the guy. You just somehow know his name and now you’ve pictured him partially naked.  
Panic sets in a little bit. You need to find a bathroom or something; anything. You head down a hallway and open a door you shouldn’t know anything about. But you do. It’s the bathroom you’re looking for. You don’t know why, but you knew exactly where to find it. In fact, you know the whole layout of this place. Only problem; you’ve never been here before.  
You rinse your clothes in the sink and hang them to dry over the towel rod. That’s where you find a plaid shirt of Dean’s. You know it’s his because it smells deliciously like him. The shirt is big on you, but at least it’s comfortable.

You’re standing in front of a mirror in this bathroom you don’t recognize, but somehow do. In the back of your mind there is a bit of familiarity, but you can’t explain it. Your hands rest on the cold porcelain sink and you lift your head up. Your eyes have a red ring around them from silent tears you barely knew were pouring down your face. You sniffle and press the shirt that smells of Dean to your face to try and wipe away the tears. After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you slowly lower it and you stare into the face that is and isn’t yours.  
“My name… my name is Y/N.” you say into the mirror. Like you’re trying to convince yourself.  
“I am in a bunker. A bunker I’ve been taken to by a man. A man named Dean.” These are things you know. Or you think you know. It’s hard to keep track of what you know and what your brain tells you that you already know. To be honest, it’s confusing as fuck. You swallow hard before you say the next truth that is trying to escape your lips.  
“The year is … FUCK!” you scream at no one in particular and start again.  
“The year is ...” You can’t even say it out loud, because it’s fucked up. The reason you know the current year is thanks to the magazines you found. When you grabbed one you stared at the publication date, then you grabbed another and another and another.  
You want to deny it all. It can’t be real.  
No.  
The magazines are all in succession, though, and look new. They’re probably a month or two behind from what month it is now because you see that it’s actually a delivered subscription.  
Six. Six fucking years have been stolen from you.

**...**

Dean will never admit it outloud, but he’s fucking scared right now. It’s like he’s stuck in a nightmare and can’t wake up, except that he knows it’s real. When he saw you in your bedroom, pale and freezing, he thought somehow you were dying. Fear has never had such a fierce hold on him before and whatever the hell this is, is terrifying.

“Sammy, what’s going on?” he asks.  
“I have no idea Dean. I wish I knew, but I just don’t have any answers.” Sam says. “It’s possible she knows something as to what’s going on.”  
“Ya, maybe.” Dean says, looking towards where they left you. They are only a room away from you, but Dean needed space and time to breathe and calm his nerves when you all returned to the bunker. He can hear that you’re up and running water in the bathroom and it gives him a little hope. Maybe everything is alright and it was just a fluke what had happened at your place.

Ya right. A dark thought crosses his mind. When is anything ever alright? Everything Dean touches turns from good to bad and from bad to worse, so why would the best thing in his life be any different? It’s killing him to think he is the cause of whatever is happening. He’s always to blame though. Time and time again has proven that to be true.  
“Maybe she’ll be up for a talk,” Sam suggests. It’s all he can think of to try and figure out what is going on.  
“Ya. I’ll go.” Dean says, sounding defeated already.  
Dean is gone before Sam can even respond.

**...**

A knock sounds on the bathroom door.

“Hey sweetheart. You mind coming out here so we could talk.” Dean says through the door. You rip open the door to face him. You want to be snarky; ask him if he’s going to interrogate the person he abducted, but you see something in his eyes. Pain, sadness, sorrow. He’s grieving. For what, you have no idea.

You simply walk out into the hallway. It feels like muscle memory when you find yourself in front of a closed door. You know it’s Dean’s bedroom. You turn and look and he has a hopeful expression on his face. You turn quickly on your heels and head back towards wherever your feet take you. You find yourself in a library. There are tables down the middle and so many books. Your heart swells at the thought of the history and the wonders this room must hold. There’s two levels to the room and you admire the balcony on the second floor. It’s beautiful.

“Wow,” quietly escapes from your lips.  
“Sweetheart,” he says again, softly, right next to you. “You’ve been here a million times.”  
“Nope,” you say, “I’d remember this.” Books are everywhere and you can smell the paper and ink. It smells perfect, it’s not dirty or dusty, you can tell this library is used often. That thought makes you smile. It’s good it’s not being neglected.  
“What’s going on?” he says. You simply cock your head at him in question.  
“Serafina,” he pleads. “Princess, tell me what’s going on.” There’s that name again. The one he called you in the bedroom.  
“Who’s Serafina?” You ask. The name feels foreign on your tongue, but it sparks some sort of recognition in the back of your mind. The goodness and light you had felt from earlier. It somehow feels tainted though, like it doesn’t belong. It leaves a rotten feeling in your mouth and you swallow the urge to cringe.

“Enough of the games.” Dean says and moves closer to you. You feel an electric charge between the two of you. Whatever it is, it makes you feel uncomfortable, because you want him. He’s fucking hot and manly and tortured and god damn, you want him to push you on the table and rip your clothes off and bury himself inside of you…  
Oh my god, where the fuck did that come from?  
Your head, your heart, your soul all feel like they are fighting, in contention for your body.  
You finally find your lungs and scream, maybe more at yourself and your conflicting emotions than Dean, but you need to escape. You make a run for it and put a table between yourself and him.

A hulking figure runs in through the doorway.  
“What’s going on?”  
Sam. The name springs into your mind. Although he is a tall, intimidating presence, you find you’re not afraid. His longer hair curls past his ears and his expression is more gentle and worried than anything else. As he moves into the library, you can see the muscles ripple through his t-shirt. Damn.  
Safe. He’s safe. You run to him and he opens up his arms for you as Dean lets out a growl and gives chase.  
“Dean,” Sam warns in a chastising tone and you know you’ve made a good choice. This also means that the voice in your head, the one that instantly provides the answers, the one you think is your subconscious is right. His name is Dean. It’s weird to hear out loud the name you’ve been hearing inside of your head. It almost feels surreal. Was earlier a memory or not?  
Nothing makes sense.  
Whatever is going on though, you can feel that this Sam will protect you. In the back of your mind, a sigh escapes. You’re craving physical connection to comfort you, but the hug you are receiving is from someone who is just a little too tall and just a little to gentle.

Dean walks over and stands on the other side of you so that you’re sandwiched between the two men. You peek over your shoulder at Dean who is looking at Sam. You can tell some sort of silent message passes between them and Sam releases his tight hold on you and distances himself a little, holding you at arm’s length.  
“So what’s going on?” he asks. You can tell he’s serious. He was worried when he first came in.  
“I don’t know,” you say. It feels almost mechanical when you say it, but it’s only because you’re holding back tears.  
“Ok, well let’s start from what happened yesterday.” Sam says. He sounds so smart. That’s because he is smart, he went to Stanford. You don’t know why or how you know this, but you do. You have no idea where to start with all of the insane weirdness that is swirling around in your head, but Sam makes it seem simple. Yesterday. So you start with yesterday.  
You tell them everything. You spell out your feelings, the way you inherently know things. The dream that wasn’t a dream; maybe a memory. You literally describe every detail up until the point you went unconscious.

**...**

Dean can’t move, can’t think, can’t breathe.  
This is a nightmare right? There’s no way that this is happening. Fucking nothing makes sense to him. He searches through his mind and recent memories. What has he done recently that would cause this? Unfortunately, he can’t figure out what he’s done. If there was something obvious, he would jump at the opportunity to throw himself into the pits of hell, just to make everything right.  
Since he can’t figure anything out, he does the only thing he can. He starts praying to Cass. The name echoes in his head as he constantly calls out. No time for fucking around, no time for hiding and not responding. Cass, get your fucking ass down here, something is wrong!

**...**

Dean is staring at you. His jaw is slightly dropped and his eyes swim with uncertainty. Suddenly, a little pop sounds and you feel a change in the air pressure. It is somehow heavier. A man in a trench coat is standing behind Dean.  
Holy fuck!

You want to scream, but you don’t.  
Is there some sort of fucking hot guy convention going on?  
He doesn’t carry the same confidence as the other two, but there’s a light in him that makes you feel at peace. He’s slightly shorter than Dean, but that’s still quite a bit taller than you. You find yourself a little mesmerized by him and cock your head slightly to get a better look. There’s a fascination you can’t shake. Magically, you know this name too. It’s Castiel although he likes to go by his nickname Cass. He’s not a man though, he’s an angel.  
An angel?  
Fuck me, if you were any weaker you’d fucking faint and drop to the ground. Somehow, you hold it together. Barely.

“Dean, you can stop praying. I am here.” Cass says. His voice is more mechanical than it should be. It sounds slightly off. He pauses too long in certain places as though he is searching for words that should just roll naturally off the tongue. Why does this seem so familiar?

“Fucking finally Cass!” Dean exclaims and runs his hand through his hair. If you weren’t so freaked out, you would have drooled at the casual display of his muscular bicep and the way his shirt lifts so you can see the small strip of toned skin above his jeans.  
Cass looks at you and ever so slightly tilts his head. It’s an odd gesture, but you’re not put off by it. Not entirely.  
“I can sense only a sliver of grace. It must be Serafina’s. What have you done with her?”  
You stare at him blankly waiting for either Sam or Dean to answer as to what has happened with this woman. It takes a bit, but as all three of the handsome men continue to stare at you, you realize the question is for you.  
“Me!?” You say. It comes out maybe a little more hysterical than you want, but are you fucking kidding me? “You’re asking what I fucking did?”  
They continue to stare at you.  
“Serafina is an angel of the Lord and you are her vessel. Or were. I am unsure how this works when you have some of her grace.” Castiel says.  
WHAT?! A freaking angel was possessing you?  
You have your own questions now.  
Because. WHAT. THE. FUCK.  
“You can’t be serious,” you say. This is some sort of a joke right?”  
“What did you do to her?” Dean says and you can feel his frustration.  
“How about what this fucking Serafina did?” Anger. You feel fucking angry with their accusations. You notice they all flinch a little as you yell the name, so you roll with the advantage. “How about the fact that my last memory before yesterday was apparently fuckin forever ago? How about the fact that I don’t remember the last fucking six years of my life? Six years!? How about the fact that I don’t know who the hell you guys are. How about…” You lose a little steam as what you’re saying actually starts to hit you. And it hits you hard. Your anger slips away as quickly as it was able to consume you. Now that you’re devoid of that overwhelming emotion, you just feel drained and empty and confused and hurt.  
“How about the fact that no one has asked if I’m ok?” You break down as the tears start running down your face. “I’m not,” you say to yourself and drop to your knees on the floor as your body is wracked with sobs. You lay down and curl into a ball. Somehow it helps.

**...**

Dean stares at you in shock. No, this can’t be.  
Cass turns and looks at Dean.  
“Something is not adding up,” the angel says.  
“Whatever it is, it must be something powerful.” Sam says. “I’ve never heard of a possession by an angel not requiring some sort of consent. Even Michael had to ask Dean.”  
“Are you blaming Serafina?” Dean asks. “You don’t know, so why are you assuming Serafina forced her?”  
“Woah slow down, Dean.” Sam says, with a concerning look etched on his face.  
“We are looking at all angles, Dean.” Cass says. “Perhaps it is not where the blame lies, but rather that we are looking for an explanation of the events. It is indeed puzzling.”  
“Serafina’s not here to defend herself.” Dean says.  
“What about what she, the vessel, has to say?” Castiel asks.  
“How can we even trust what she’s saying?” Dean asks.  
“Dean, I do not know what happened, Angels cannot take a human host vessel without explicit consent. It sounds like she never gave consent to this happening. I can feel her telling the truth.”  
Dean and Sam stare at you.  
“All I can tell you,” Cass continues, “is that Serafina did not leave by choice, but she was also not forced out by a spell. It is odd to say the least. Especially if this vessel had no idea, she would not have been able to cast her out. Somehow, though, a piece of her grace has survived, I can feel it within her. It must have attached itself to the host. It seems she is retaining some memories. You must keep her here with you for the time being. If Serafina is missing a piece of her grace, she may be in trouble.”  
“We can’t keep her.” Sam says, “she’s not a piece of property. She’s a human being.”  
“Sammy!” Dean says angrily at the suggestion and then turns to Cass next. “Cass, what the fuck?” he says, frustration rolling off of him.  
“I will go look for answers,” Cass said and was gone.  
“Dean,” Sam says hesitantly. “You can’t blame her for any of this. Whatever has happened, something has happened to her as well.”  
Dean huffs out a breath and takes his time thinking a bit. His shoulders slump forward slightly as he finally takes in everything that has been said.  
“I know Sammy, it’s just a lot to take in. Something is off about all this.”

**...**

Sam and Dean stare at you as you lay on the floor, unsure of themselves. You can feel their eyes on your back, but you could care less at this point.  
Dean hesitantly steps forward first. Although he is angry at the situation, he has a soft spot for you. He hates seeing you in pain and it’s really getting to him at this point.  
“Hey,” he says as he sits on his haunches beside you. “If you’ve got some of her memories, you know that Sammy and I won’t hurt you.” You notice he doesn’t use the angels name and you don’t know if it’s for your benefit or his. You know deep down it’s true, so you nod. It’s all you can do at this point.  
“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable,” he says and starts lifting you off the floor. You tense not knowing where you’re going to be taken.  
“Your own room.” Sam says and you feel Dean tense immediately, but he relaxes and walks with your curled up body down the hall towards the bedrooms. You breathe in the comforting scent of Dean and nuzzle your head into his body. He groans at the contact.

Immediately a dull pain rolls through you and you are taken elsewhere.

_Your eyes focus on Dean as you feel his hand as it caresses the exposed skin at your hip. His hand feels calloused and rough. He has the hands of someone who has had a hard life. But they are warm and comforting too. You like the feeling of his hand a lot. It feels real, too real. As though he has held you like this a million times, as if he would always comfort you and hold you and continue to do this for the rest of his life._   
_ Without warning, he lowers your legs to the ground, but holds you tight against his body. Once your feet touch the ground he leans down and kisses you. Really kisses you. His hard muscles press against you as you sigh and melt into him. You wrap yourself around him, trying to get as close as possible. Well, you but not you. You’re once again a passenger and although it’s not your choice, you’re really starting to enjoy the hell out of it. You feel a bit like a voyeur, even though it’s you. But not really._   
_ His tongue skirts across your lower lip, asking for permission. You find yourself moaning and opening up for him. You dig your hand into the hair at the back of his head and pull him closer to you._   
_ “Fuck Princess,” Dean moans against you, catching his breath. You gasp as his hands cup your ass then slide down to the backs of your thighs and lift you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You feel his arousal against your core and grind into him a bit, earning another moan from him._   
_ “Want you so bad sweetheart,” he says._   
_ “I want you too,” you say and he walks you back to his room. “Fuck me Dean.”_

You’re back in Dean’s arms, but he’s frozen stiff and not moving in the hallway. You can feel him breathing against you. You can feel his erection against your hip.  
“Dean?” You say hesitantly.  
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He says. “You were making these noises and it’s hard to umm … shit.”  
He walks fast and goes to a room that’s only a door down from his and Sam’s. He deposits you gently on the bed and without a word leaves.

**...**

Dean leans against the wall outside your newly designated bedroom.  
What the fuck was that?  
He knows you’re not Serafina, but something about you draws him in. A little moan and he was like a goddamn horny teenager searching for a quick fix. It’s all so confusing. Your body is the same body and if he’s honest with himself, you’re nicer than you were before. But Serafina is his soulmate right? Not you, not the vessel.  
What a fucking mess, Dean curses to himself and pushes away from your bedroom. Time for a stiff drink. Ya, he thinks to himself, that sounds like a great fucking idea.

**...**

You hear Dean’s footsteps head down the hallway and wrap yourself in the blankets. They smell a little dusty, but it doesn’t bother you too much besides the slight tingle in your nose. Exhaustion hits you as you drift off to sleep. What a fucking day.

_You’re laying in bed and the sheets are tangled around your naked body. Dean’s laying beside you and he’s tracing lines between some freckles you have on your shoulder. He’s naked too and you can feel his warm body against yours. It feels comfortable with him. Fuck, it feels like home. You don’t know where this overwhelming emotion comes from, but you know it to be true._   
_ “Love you,” Dean whispers into your ear and you smile._   
_ “I know,” you say, quoting a line from Star Wars that he loves saying to you so much. It’s rare you get the upper hand with him. He chuckles and continues the light touch on your shoulder._

You wake in a sweat. Overwhelmingly, you can feel the emotions from the memory dream, as you now call them.  
Fuck.  
How the hell are you going to separate your emotions and thoughts and feelings from this angel’s fucking grace she left inside of you. The more you think about it the more you’re just a little grossed out by the thought.  
Like what the fuck?

You look over at the clock. 4:06am. Great.  
You never got undressed to go to bed, so you just wear Dean’s shirt out to the kitchen. You’re up now, you might as well make some coffee. As you enter, though, you see Dean sitting at the table with a coffee in hand and staring at the wall, seeming a thousand miles away.

“Morning,” you say. Your words shatter the silence and his head whips around to look at you. A smile lights up his face, but then recognition sets in and it turns into a slight frown before returning to neutral.  
You awkwardly get yourself a coffee, knowing where to find the cups and the ingredients to make your delicious caffeine fix.  
“So… uh. How’d you sleep?” he asks.  
“Really?” you chuckle. “It’s like 4am.”  
“Ya I know sweetheart, it’s just…” Dean pauses and looks at you. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”  
“Y/N,” you say.  
“It suits you.” Dean says and stares deeply into his coffee. As if somehow, the dark cup has all of life’s answers hidden away in it.

Just then, Sam comes walking into the kitchen as well.  
“Morning,” he grumbles and you feel yourself smile at him. “So what’s on the agenda today, you know, since we’re all up?”  
Dean hesitantly looks at you and then back at Sam, but offers no answer. You stare blankly at your coffee as you stay silent too.  
“How about a tour of the bunker?” Sam asks.  
“Ya that’s fine.” Dean says.  
“Umm…” you start to say and wait for the boys to turn around. “I actually know or remember or understand the layout.” Both the men stare back at you somewhat in confusion. “Remember when I kind of told you about the memories? Well, when I first got here, I knew I was in the bunker and I knew where the bathroom was, where to find the library, where to find D… the bedrooms. It just seems to be something I know.”  
Sam and Dean look a little deflated. It was almost like they were hoping what you had told them earlier about the memories had been a farce.  
“Well what if we talk and answer some questions you may have?” Sam suggests. To you, that sounds like a great fucking idea. You all walk to the library and sit at a table. Cass suddenly joins you without warning, but it doesn’t surprise you or frighten you that he’s there.

“Ok,” you start. It may be the coffee talking because you aren’t usually this bold. “I need to start at the beginning. The last thing I remember is going to bed on a Friday night and then poof, I’m here in this situation.”  
“You do not remember a light, a celestial being, asking for your permission to use your body for the good of humanity and the fight against evil?” Can asks and tilts his head again.  
“No.” It’s a simple answer, but no, It never happened.  
“This is strange.” Cass says. “I am finding evidence that this may be more than we think. There is a prophecy…”  
There’s no pain this time, but you can feel yourself being pulled from reality.

_You’re standing in front of a man. He does not seem intimidating, but you can tell you’re frightened, but it awe._   
_ Umm what the fuck is so special about this dude?_

_You know his name instantly, but it slips out of your mind. He now seems much less intimidating, because who the hell is scary with that kind of a name? But you shake your head in confusion._   
_ What was his name again?_   
_ “Y/N,” he says to you and you feel in awe of him, but you don’t know why._   
_ Ya ok. So this weirdo comes out of hiding to say hi. He clearly needs to have better priorities. What really gets to you though, is when you really try to get a good look at him, his features become distorted and you feel like you’re staring at at least five faces blended into one._   
_ But that’s crazy right?_   
_ The man looks at you, through you, in you. You don’t know, but you feel slightly violated as he just stands there. He walks forward and rests a hand on your shoulder._   
_ “Stay in the bunker with the Winchesters. They have the answers you seek.”_   
_ “They have the answers.” You reply mechanically as your eyes glaze over and your memory starts to fade._

You’re back looking at Cass as he speaks. You feel as though your mind is hazy, like you’ve had a few drinks and the last couple minutes went in one ear and out the other.  
“...so essentially to translate into layman's terms the prophecy states that for God’s human weapon against evil and chaos, he has spared a specific piece of pure angelic light. A light to guide him out of the darkness.”  
The brothers stare at Cass, they have no idea what it means.  
You notice they do not have this answer, but inherently you know that they will have answers for you.

“What?” you ask. Cass assumes you haven’t been listening to his speech about the prophecy and recites it once more. Dean groans painfully at having to listen to it again. Sam, however, listens intently for anything he might have missed the first time.  
“What does it mean? What’s the plan?” you ask, because you know they have a plan. They always have a plan. In the back of your mind, you want to question how you know this, but you don’t. You feel like if you question it you will be scolded.  
“Umm… we’re not too sure right now Y/N,” Sam says.  
“No, you have a plan. I want to hear it.” you say. You don’t know why you’re so pushy on the subject, but you are.  
“Y/N,” Cass says, looking at you strangely. He can tell something is off with you. “When I was speaking about the prophecy, was someone speaking to you?”  
What a weird fucking question to ask. You were here, you were listening to him, not talking. Something in the back of your mind sparks interest. There’s a man. A man you’ve never seen before. But you can’t pin down anything about him. You try to picture him, but you can’t.  
“A man. He’s friendly, but bossy.” you say. The words feel hard to push out, as though your tongue is protesting even the mention of this man. You feel like this is another thing you will be scolded for. It makes no sense though. Nothing does right now.  
“Can you describe him?” Cass asks as Sam and Dean stare at the two of you, completely confused. Frustration bubbles up in you as you try to remember what he looks like, what he was wearing, his name. Anything. You’d fucking take anything.  
“Does he have an accent?” Dean growls. He has a sneaking suspicion that Crowley is involved somehow.  
With a sad resignation, you think that maybe you are broken. Whatever happened with Serafina has broken you beyond repair.  
“I can’t remember,” you say in total defeat.

“Crowley!” Dean yells. With a slight pop in the air and a change of pressure a man appears behind Dean. You barely react to his sudden appearance, but you might be in shock from earlier. He’s dressed in a classic black suit with a blood red tie. The confidence radiating from him makes you think he doesn’t give two shits about what anyone thinks about him. One of his eyebrows is raised and he is wearing a cocky smirk. You have a sneaking suspicion he’s a troublemaker.  
“Hello boys,” he nods at Dean. “You rang?”  
Dean growls and you swear he’s going to tackle Crowley to the ground. However, Sam also sees this and puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Somehow the contact grounds him.  
“Tell me what you did!” Dean demands.  
“Come now, Squirrel, you’re going to have to be a lot more specific. As King of Hell, I get up to a lot of things.”

Umm… the King of what now? You have to be fucking kidding me.  
This British dude is the King of Hell? He sure doesn’t look especially menacing.

Instead of responding, Dean literally turns and points at you. Crowley raises his eyebrows in question before he responds.  
“Hello love,” he says and doesn’t wait for you to respond before continuing. “Like I’d play with your pet, Squirrel,” he scoffs. “You know I love to raise a little hell every now and then, but this wasn’t me.”  
“I’ll fucking kill you if you’re lying” Dean says.  
“Squirrel,” Crowley replies calmly, “you’re adorable when you get all threatening, but, as I said before, this wasn’t me.”  
“He is telling the truth, Dean,” Cass chimes in.  
“Like I need you to have my back, wings.” Crowley says rolling his eyes. “I’m clearly on the up and up here.”  
Dean simply stares and as you look at him you watch the fight drain from his body. You can tell he feels as defeated as you.  
“You functional morons thought I had anything to do with your precious girlfriend being pulled back to that bloody place where everyone sits on the clouds and play harps?” he says waving his hand flippantly in the air. “You’re dumber than I thought.”  
All four of you just continue staring at Crowley. With no one saying anything, Crowley begins to look bored.  
“Well as enlightening as this has been. Toodles, boys.” and Crowley is gone just as fast as he appeared.

...

Dean stares at the place where Crowley stood. It was the only lead he could think of and now he has nothing. Sure, it could be a lesser demon, but he knows that Crowley would have said something. Ya he’s the king of hell and all, but he has a soft spot for him and Sam. Not that he would ever admit it.  
Dean looks up and locks eyes with Sam. Sam looks as lost as Dean feels. Cass also looks slightly defeated and it wrecks Dean. Usually Cass is a ray of hope that he clings to, but even now, it looks like all hope is lost.  
Tears well up in his eyes and he leaves without a word.  
Drunk. He’s getting so fucking drunk he can forget everything for a little while.

...

The rest of the day is uneventful and you basically sit in the library staring at the table you’re sitting at, trying to process anything. The boys leave you alone as Dean gets drunk and Sam does research. Cass is somewhere doing something you assume. All you know is that he’s not in the bunker with you.  
Within the span of seventy-two hours you’ve woken up to realise you’ve lost six years of your life because an angel was possessing you. This angel, was in a relationship with Dean and Dean hunts monsters with his brother Sam and another angel. And to top it all off, they’re acquaintances with the king of hell, who’s just a short british dude.  
Jesus.  
What a clusterfuck your life has become.

When you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, you head back to your room with more questions than answers. Closing the door behind you, you lean against the wood. You bang your head back against it a few times out of frustration. Just enough to hurt a little bit. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help in the least so you sluggishly drag yourself over to the bed and plop down onto it. The sheets are still a little dusty, but once again, you don’t mind.

A knock sounds at your door and in your sleepy stupor, you drag yourself out of bed and open the door without question.  
“Hey Princess,” Dean says, slurring his words. He reeks of whiskey. Fuck how much did he drink? He pushes past you into the room and sits on your bed.  
“You know, you still look the same. You’re fucking beautiful.” He says.  
Holy shit is this real? You find yourself wide awake now.  
“Dean,” you caution him and stand in front of him with your arms crossed. You have every intention of kicking him out, when he reaches his hands forward and gabs your thighs. You’re still wearing his plaid shirt through all of this. It’s almost like wearing a dress, a really short dress.  
“You feel the same. So fucking soft.” His thumbs trace circles against your skin. You feel a tingling sensation and a burning desire running up to your core. Fuck.  
Dean looks up at you with his glazed over eyes.  
“Bet you’re also wet and warm and tight. Like you always are.”  
Jesus Christ. You feel yourself getting wet. You know he’s drunk and you know it’s wrong, but he’s talking about you. He’s talking about your body. That’s the thing. When Serafina was with him, it was your body. All the dreams, all the visions, all the memories. They are made with you and Dean. It was always technically the two of you.  
You run your tongue over your lower lip. Your mouth is suddenly dry as fuck and you swallow hard. Dean watches your tongue darting out and he stares at it, letting out a slight groan.  
“Fuck Princess, I want you so bad.”  
God, you want him too. You really do. At least you think you do, because it could be the remnants of Serafina talking. But he’s fucking hot and right now you don’t really care if it’s you or her thinking these things. Unfortunately, though, you know that in the morning he will regret this. You don’t know him well, but it’s something you’ve picked up on. This will be something else he will likely blame himself for and you can’t do that to him. So instead you pray for a little strength to say your next words and then a fuck tonne of it so you don’t’ follow through.  
“Dean, baby. Why don’t we do this in your room?”  
“Ya?” he says and his eyes snap open for a second before they glaze over again.  
“Ya, I gotta freshen up. I want to look good for you. I can meet you there real soon.”  
Dean groans inwardly to himself as he stands up from the bed, holding you close as he takes in a breath and kisses the top of your head.  
“Fuck baby, you smell so good. Don’t keep me waiting.” he says and saunters out of your room to his. You watch him make it to his room stumbling most of the way and close your door when he gets there. You take a few deep breaths leaning against your door. Fuck. Somehow you manage to wait ten minutes. You tiptoe to Dean’s room and peek through his door. He’s passed out and snoring. Holy shit, your plan actually worked.  
You head back to your room and throw yourself onto your bed. Fuck you were so turned on earlier, you deserve a medal for being a goddamn saint. Laying down and throwing the covers over your body, you drift off into a fitful sleep.

_The man is back._   
_ “Hello again, Y/N,” he says to you. His head tilts awkwardly and it reminds you of someone. Weird. You still can’t discern his facial features and it’s more unnerving this time, because you are pretty sure that he is messing with your memory as well._   
_ “You must fight to remember what has happened. Embrace what it is that makes you, you.”_   
_ “How can I do that when I don’t even know who I am anymore?” you ask. You want to scream and yell and call him names, but you don’t. Somehow, you restrain yourself. “Will I even remember this conversation with you?”_   
_ “Yes, you will remember,” he says._   
_ “Wait, who are you?” you ask, hopeful that he will shed some light on his identity._   
_ “Not yet child,” he says and you feel yourself disappearing into darkness and shadows._

You sleep deeply for the rest of the night.

...

You wake up and have no idea what in the hell you’re doing. You hide from Dean, but when you do see him, he’s nothing but polite. You worry that it is going to be awkward as fuck between the two of you, but nothing of the sort happens. He must not remember what happened the night before. Ah, the glory of alcohol, a quick way to forget a night.


	2. Chapter 2

You don’t know why, but you stay for the next three weeks. You should probably leave, but to be honest, you feel safe here. Not to mention, you feel like the brothers hold the key to some of the answers you are searching for.  
You build up a bit of a routine. When you wake up, you make coffee for Sam and Dean and head to the library where you seclude yourself. You soak up as much information as you can, and every once in a while you have a flashback of intimate moments with Dean and then there are odd ones that are fuzzy and they remind you of when you speak with the man you can’t picture. They’re frustrating as hell, so you focus your energy on trying to figure them out. Of course, nothing comes of it.

At the beginning, once in a while Dean would bring in a snack for himself and sit at the same table as you. He wouldn’t open a book or do anything that really required him to be at the library. Rather, he would just sit there silently. Then, under the guise of being full, he would offer you something to eat from his plate.  
The gesture becomes part of the routine as well for you and you find yourself enjoying Dean’s company. You laugh together and you tell him stuff about you from your past. You find you have a lot in common with him and it’s nice to share something that helps make you feel more human. More alive. To be honest, you’ve been stuck in a rut and the connection you’re building with him makes you feel like your old self again. It’s hard, though, because you feel such strong emotions for him. Even though, in the back of your mind, you know that Serafina’s emotions may be shining through, you also know that some of them are your own now, as you see the tenderness that’s buried underneath his gruff exterior.

**...**

The day finally comes where Sam and Dean feel like they can leave you at the bunker safely and head out for a hunt. They tell you they’ll only be gone for twelve hours, but even that short period of time, you know, will feel like an eternity. The entire time you’ve been in the bunker, which is almost a month now, you’ve never truly been alone. Sure you go to the library, but Dean checks in on you and Sam awkwardly hovers, pretending to look for something he doesn’t really need. It’s nice though. Now that it’s gone, even for a measly twelve hours, you miss seeing them. Well, to be honest you miss Dean a whole heck of a lot more.

You stare at the clock, it’s been six hours. That’s it?  
You huff out a sigh and head to the library and find a new book to read. You decide to grab one about angels and possessions. You had been avoiding it for some time now, but you feel like this is as good a time as any to try and find some answers in regards to Serafina. Mostly before, you had been focusing on the mysterious man and who he could possibly be. He hadn’t made an appearance since that night with drunken Dean, so you have nothing new to go on.

You’re sitting at the table and you’re reading a passage in the book about angels, when you hear a weird sound.  
“Cass?” you call out. You know it’s not Sam or Dean. It sounds like someone has popped into the bunker out of thin air.  
“Not quite,” a voice says that you don’t recognize. “Hello Y/N,” You spin and see a woman you do not know. No name pops into your head and you suddenly become worried. Who the hell is this?  
“You don’t recognize me do you?” she says. You don’t know why but you have a very bad feeling. “It’s probably because this new vessel isn’t someone you know. She’s not as pretty as you and not as accommodating. But you should be able to recognize my grace. After all, I was inside of you for six years.”  
Holy fucking shit.  
No.  
No no no no no.  
“Serafina,” you say and she simply smiles at you. It’s a creepy smile. Something is off about it. It’s not like when Cass attempts to smile, although his isn’t great either. He has a genuine niceness that emanates from him, but you’re not getting that feeling. Not at all.  
“You know, only six angels have seen God. For the entirety of my life I thought he was a myth. Then, he pops up with a task to get you and Dean together. Like really? You’re what brought him out of hiding? Anyways, what a waste of my god given talents. But then, wow, that Dean. He’s a hot piece of something. Definitely damaged, but I see the appeal.” You don’t even know what to say at this point. All you can do is stare at her slack jawed.  
“Close your mouth, sweetie, you look like a trout.” She says and you snap your jaw close.  
Bitch.  
She’s leaning now, with both her hands on the table you’re sitting at. Way too close for comfort. “Anyways,” she continues, “so here I am minding my own business, having the time of my life, fulfilling the prophecy when daddy dearest himself pulls me out of you.”  
Umm… what? God?  
Ok, don’t panic. Don’t panic. Ya right, you’re fucking freaking out. Where the hell are the boys? It would be great if they could just walk through the door and help a girl out.  
“So much for not messing with the prophecy. See here’s the thing. There’s a little clause at the end of every prophecy, God must keep his hands off. Well, with you, my sweet little tart, he screwed the pooch, didn’t he? First he sends me in and then he takes me away. Sounds like his fingers are in the proverbial pie.”  
“What are you talking about?” Goddamn, this woman just won’t shut up and her ramblings are making little to no sense to you. She laughs at your questions and you feel like you’ve been slapped.  
What the hell did Dean ever see in her? You’re not normally a violent person, but your palm is twitching to slap the daylights out of her.  
“There’s a prophecy where you’re the light that Dean needs in his life. I brought you to him, but God wasn’t happy with the liberties I took. Men, so fickle.” She huffs.  
“What is wrong with you?” you ask.  
“Me? Baby, there’s nothing wrong with me. Well, maybe some daddy issues, but that’s besides the point.” she says laughing. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Dean likes that.”

“What do you want?” You don’t necessarily want to know, but also you do.  
“Oh Y/N, I’m here to take back your body. Plain and simple. It’s mine.”  
This is a fucking angel? Jesus, she took a dive off the deep end. Humanity really screwed with her brain. There is nothing in her that reminds you of Cass. He is kind and helpful and seems to still be learning social graces, but this one, well to be frank, she’s definitely nailed down the raging bitch attitude. Like figured it out really well.

“Well I’m saying no and I know you need permission,” you say. You feel slightly confident, knowing what you know about possession. However, she does not look perturbed whatsoever by your declaration.  
“Oh sweetie,” she chastises you. “I don’t need your permission. See God was too specific when he wrote the rules. Human vessels have to give the ok, but you’re not entirely human.”  
WHAT?!  
You have to be fucking kidding me.

Just then you hear a loud bang and Dean and Sam come rushing into the library. Serafina stands tall and smiles at the brothers.  
“Y/N,” Dean says. “Cass said you were in trouble. Who’s this?”  
“Baby,” Serafina coos at Dean, “it’s me, can’t you tell?”  
“Serafina?” Dean says hesitantly. He looks between you and her and you can see the indecision and uncertainty on his face. “What are you doing back here?”  
Serafina walks up to Dean and starts tracing a finger up and down his arm. Dean is stiff as a board.  
“I came to get my vessel back,” she says in almost a whisper.  
“Serafina,” Sam says, “Y/N doesn’t want to be possessed. She’s made that very clear while she’s been with us. You’ll have to keep this vessel you have now.”  
“But this one’s ugly,” Serafina pouts. Dean just stares at her, like he’s not sure what the hell he’s going to do. “I want to be back in Y/N’s warmth so we can be together Dean, baby. God had no right to intervene. We were happy.”  
Dean continues to stare, unmoving.  
“Plus, it’s not like Y/N can say no to me. I can just take her.”  
“What?” Sam says as Dean continues to stare dumbfounded at her.  
“Y/N. She’s not entirely human, so I don’t need her express consent.” Serafina rubs herself against Dean, who has not relaxed or loosened up since walking into the library. “Baby, you want that don’t you? You want me, not this pretender. You’re meant to be with me, not her.”  
Dean still doesn’t move, but his eyes slide to you. You don’t understand the look he is giving you. While he is staring at you, Serafina turns and that creepy smile is plastered on her face. She clearly takes his silence as confirmation for her insane fantasy.  
“It’s time to take back what’s mine.”  
Serafina’s grace starts to shine through the vessel and you can see small hairline cracks that are starting to form. You wonder if this woman will survive.  
Wait, fuck. You need to run. You need to get away from the psycho before she steals you again.  
“Dean,” you say and he shows the first signs of life, as his head snaps up, but his eyes remain locked on you. “Please.” You plead with him, searching for any sign of hope in his piercing green eyes. “I don’t want this.” Dean closes his eyes.  
Fuck.  
Before you can do anything, a bright light explodes from the woman and you hear a scream of pure pain. Oh god, she’s going to fucking get me. Knowing it won’t help, you dive under the table and hug your knees to your chest. Your vision is dancing with blue dots as though you stared into the sun for far too long.  
You feel a pain rip through you and you shut your eyes tight.

_It’s you, you’re standing in the library and the man you don’t know is with you._  
_ You can focus on him now and you recognize him. He’s bookish and nerdy, but there is a power emanating from him you can instantly feel. Chuck. It’s Chuck. But wait, there’s something else coming to the forefront of your mind. God. Chuck is God._  
_ Holy Shit._  
_ Chuck turns to you and he is visibly upset._  
_ “I told you to assist with the prophecy in bringing Dean and Y/N together. You have violated what I asked.”_  
_ Anger ripples through you, but you can’t control it. You can’t control the overwhelming sense of betrayal at him. That he has abandoned you, yet asks the world of you. But these aren’t your emotions. They are hers. Serafina’s._  
_ “No, I have not,” you respond coolly; automatically as it’s not you really speaking. You feel her like a dark presence. Whatever she has done has made her this way, she has tainted her soul. “If you’ll notice daddy dearest, they are together. Her body and Dean’s are together. That is what you asked.”_  
_ Chuck shakes his head._  
_ “It is not just her body that was designed for Dean Winchester, it was also her mind. She is uniquely her own and you have stolen that from her and from Dean. And by doing so you have stolen that from me. Your selfishness is what has caused this. Perhaps you have spent too much time with humans.”_  
_ You feel her presence torn from you. She is simply gone._  
_ Oh my God, this is how it happened. This is how she was taken away in the first place. Her ramblings all start to make sense._

_Suddenly Chuck looks at you and you feel time and space freeze around you._  
_ “Hello Y/N, I apologize for my role in this. I did make you specifically for a purpose, but I fear now that you may run from it. Do not run. Embrace what it is that makes you, you. You were made to fight the darkness of the world. You were made for the best and strongest warrior we have to fight that darkness, and he for you.”_  
_ “Why now?” you ask._  
_ “Well, she told you everything and therefore tainted the prophecy herself.” He explains. “I was able to come to you and reveal myself in the process because she was careless.” You’re gaping at him. How on earth did this memory turn into a conversation with Chuck… or rather a conversation with God?_  
_ “It simply is because you wished it.” He says with ease as if reading your mind. “You are more than you know.”_  
_ “Please,” you say quietly._  
_ “A hint? Yes I can do that.” Chuck walks closer to you and places two fingers on your forehead. “The grace inside you; it is yours.”_

You’re back in the bunker under the table in the library. You see the body of the young woman that Serafina had taken. There is a silver angel blade in her heart.  
Oh my god.

You crawl out from your hiding place to see Dean, kneeling on the floor with blood on his hands. Sam and Cass are standing just behind him. You don’t even know when Cass got here.  
“Dean, you cannot blame yourself. Serafina was a very skilled angel. She deceived me and Sam as well.” Cass says, even though Dean has not said a word. You can see him beating himself up over this already.  
You crawl over to Dean and reach out to gently touch his left arm. He flinches at the touch and his head snaps up to look at you. His green eyes are swimming with uncertainty and you want to hold him to make him feel better. You don’t know if it will help him or hurt him at this point.  
“Thank you,” you say. Because what the fuck else can you say. He just killed his supposed soul mate for you. But Serafina and Chuck aka freaking God, just told you that you’re his soulmate. Fuck. You have a lot to process.

You somehow make it to your feet and slowly trudge towards the library exit.  
“Y/N,” Sam calls out. “What did she mean when she said you weren’t entirely human?”  
“Umm..” you start. Fuck you feel so drained. “Chuck said the grace is mine. So whatever that means,” you say and leave the three men in the library.  
Sam is the only one paying attention to what you say and just looks at you questioningly, but says nothing.

**...**

Dean stares at you and watches you leave. He can’t take his eyes off of you. He didn’t hear your conversation with Sam because he’s not processing everything right now. It feels like an overload in his brain.  
Seeing you now, especially with Serafina gone, like really gone, was a shock to the system. Whatever it was that had held you back and hid your true nature was gone. Your body called to him and he wanted desperately to respond.  
But it was wrong, right?  
Serafina was his soul mate, not the vessel, Y/N.  
And she’s not even cold dead. Just warm dead and Dean feels nothing. He feels nothing for the woman lying in front of him. But he feels everything for you. And it feels wrong, but so fucking right. Which might be fucked up and make him the worst human being on the planet.

He sees you collapse just outside the library and yells at Cass to catch you before you hurt yourself. The angel quickly takes care of you, depositing you on the couch in the TV room, just one door away from the library.  
“Cass,” Sam says and looks down at the body. With a snap of his fingers, the body is gone. It’s like it never even happened. Dean silently moves to sit at the table you had previously occupied. Resting his head in his hands, he stares at the wood table, probably in shock.  
“I have a theory,” Cass states. “I am not sure how you will feel about it Dean.”

After he hears the explanation, Dean stares at Cass. What he said can’t be right, can it?

From the outside looking in, Dean’s life hasn’t changed much, but in truth, it’s a fucking disaster. How can someone, after six years of a relationship find out that his soulmate; his true love is not be the person he thought? The one that he made love to was just basically sticking it to her dad. Talk about daddy issues.  
What a goddamn fucking nightmare.  
To say he had intimacy issues before this relationship was laughable; perhaps the biggest understatement ever. He’d run if a girl said anything beyond, that was great, let’s never do it again. With you, though, it had been different. Something had drawn him in, intrigued him, never left him bored. There was something inexplicable about you.  
It felt subdued, though, like he was only able to catch glimpses when your guard was down. It had been enough though, all that time.

He had been seeing more and more of it as you were spending time with him and Sam in the bunker, with Serafina not there. It was how he was able to easily make the decision that should have torn his soul in two. But he had barely hesitated.  
Fuck! Was he that messed up? Or was it like Cass said about the prophecy and that Serafina was actually impeding it. That what he felt was for you and not her. What if all this fucking nightmare actually brings the two of you together?  
Fuck, hope is a dangerous thing.

**...**

Chuck pops into the library and surprises the three men.  
“What the fuck?” Sam says at the random appearance.  
“Oh hi. Ya umm… this wasn’t how this was supposed to end. I mean I appreciate you taking care of my little problem there. I thought trapping her in Heaven would keep her occupied for a least a century or so, but she was much more resourceful than I thought.” Chuck says, rambling while Cass, Sam and Dean stare at him.  
“I mean I was rooting for you, Dean. You and Y/N are meant for each other. I wrote about it a while ago. But, you know me, I’m kind of hands off until it’s like really required.”  
“But you weren’t were you? You sent Serafina didn’t you.” Dean says. It’s only a theory at this point, but he’s pretty sure of himself.  
“I’m sorry that you feel that I betrayed you, but I wish you would see you left me with no choice. Your lifestyle and choices were pulling you further from Y/N with every decision. I needed to step in, in the only way I was able to do so.” Chuck simply explains.  
“Why does it even matter?” Dean asks. Sam stares and crosses his arms across his chest.  
“You’re my favourite story,” Chuck answers, shrugging.  
“You mean to tell me everything that’s happened all the bad, all the loss, all the suffering, it’s because you’re getting a kick out of the story? It’s not a fucking story!” Dean yells.  
“Come on man, it’s our lives.” Sam says.  
“That’s why I sent Y/N.” Chuck replies. “I was trying to right a few wrongs and provide some light in the darkness.”  
“I’m done talking. God or not, you can go to hell!” Dean says and storms out of the library.

“Father, you may have let it go too far.” Cass says, cocking his head at Chuck.  
“There is a balance in the universe that needs to be maintained. Darkness needs light and light needs darkness. Whatever you believe of me, know that I have the best intentions.” Chuck says and disappears without another word. He leaves Sam and Cass staring at each other.

**...**

You wake up to a whispered argument. The clock reads late in the afternoon.  
Jesus, did you sleep for almost twenty-four hours?  
You can hear Cass and Dean speaking in hushed tones with one another, but what catches your attention is your name.

“Y/N was made for you. It is God’s prophecy Dean.”  
“I don’t care if it’s a goddamn prophecy, this is fucked up.”  
“I cannot deny that these are unusual circumstances, but you are together now.”  
“Cass,” Dean groans out of frustration, “It ain’t right.”  
“And they’re not together,” Sam chimes in, coming seemingly out of nowhere. “I mean they were, but that remains to be seen if she even wants you Dean.”  
“Oh thanks Sammy,” Dean replies. “Really appreciate you rubbing salt in the fucking wound right now.”  
You turn ever so slightly to look at the men. Someone had placed you on a couch in the TV room and they were just outside the door.  
“Dean,” Sam pleads, “I’m sorry.”  
“You have no fucking clue how hard it’s been.” Dean says to the two other men. “Day in and day out, I’m with her, but I’m not. To her, I’m just some guy that she’s getting to know. But to me, it’s still her, it’s always been her. I have the memories, the … everything. To me, it’s still fucking her and there’s nothing I can do about it. And you tell me this prophecy says we’re meant for one another and tell me Y/N might not even choose me because of … her! Fuck, I need… I need...”  
Dean storms off, leaving Cass and Sam standing in the doorway. Cass turns his head and looks at you.

“Hi,” you offer sheepishly. The two men stare at you unmoving. Sitting up, you stretch your limbs and look back at the men. “I think I need to talk to Dean.”  
Sam nods and looks at you with his puppy dog eyes. He’s clearly upset about his brother. Cass has a similar expression, but it appears to be aimed at you.  
“One thing before you go,” Cass says to you. “You said Chuck spoke to you. You are aware that he is God?”  
“Ya, I think he mentioned that or I knew it. Something,” you say.  
“Did he say anything else?” Cass asks curiously.  
“Apart from what you’ve guessed about the prophecy, not much,” you reply. “There was this weird part where he said that the grace inside of me is mine. I don’t know exactly what that means though.” You shrug as you look at Cass. If it was the only thing you were dealing with right now, ya you might have been freaked out and trying to figure out what it meant. But this was just one more thing on a long list of things.  
Cass stares at you then at Sam, saying nothing about their own conversation with Chuck, and quickly disappears.

Sam awkwardly excuses himself to the library and you go in search of Dean. You head to his bedroom, because you know it’s his little sanctuary and private space.

You knock on the door, but you don’t hear an answer. You open it a sliver to see if he’s there or if you need to search elsewhere. What you find, you weren’t expecting.  
Dean is there, lying on his bed, facing the door. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open as he pants heavily. Your eyes travel from his face and stop as you watch him caressing his erection. It’s big. He’s packing some serious heat. Definitely bigger than anything you’ve had experience with before. Well, at least that you know of.

He starts to work himself into a rhythm when he moans.  
You are entranced with what you see and can’t move. You watch for far longer than you should when he moans again. The noise somehow snaps you out of it and you go to close the door.  
“Y/N.” Dean moans this time. It seems like time stops. You want to be embarrassed, you want to leave, but you also don’t. In that moment of you waiting, Dean finishes on his abs with a groan and another quiet plea of your name. His breathing, once ragged is returning to normal and you know he’s going to open his eyes. You need to move or else he will see you. You start to close the door, but a slight creak from it gives you away.

Dean’s eyes snap open and immediately find you. His pupils are blown wide from lust and you swear he growls as he jumps from the bed. You don’t know what to do as he runs to the door. So, out of fear and embarrassment, you slam it closed and run to your bedroom.

**...**

FUCK!  
Dean stares at the closed door to his bedroom. Did that just happen?  
He stares down at himself and god dammit, he’s got a fucking mess on his stomach. Grabbing a dirty t-shirt he wipes himself off and throws on a plaid shirt and some jeans.  
He needs to talk to you, tell you he’s sorry. But he’s not. Secretly, he’s fucking happy you found him. God, he wants you so bad it fucking hurts. Just talking about you earlier and how you were meant for him had got him riled up enough to need to relieve some stress.

Dean slips out of his bedroom and walks to your door. He gets all the way there and raises his hand to knock and then doesn’t.  
What if you don’t want him? You ran when you saw him.  
FUCK.  
He’s pacing back and forth now, trying to decide what to do. He needs a drink and a cold shower.

**...**

You can hear Dean pace outside of your room for a full minute before his footsteps disappear, but your heart won’t stop beating hard. You can hear and feel the rush of blood in your ears as your adrenaline continues to pump.  
Fuck.  
You’ve never been so turned on in your life. You ache to relieve the sexual tension you can feel coiled up in your body so tight. However, with everything that’s happened you don’t know what to do, so you do nothing. It’s all so confusing.  
Taking a deep breath you drop yourself onto your bed. A sigh escapes your lips and you stare at the ceiling.

Suddenly, you know what you want; what you need. A shower. It will be so heavenly. You snicker at yourself at your use of words. Now that you know they exist and freaking God has spoken to you, it all seems ludicrous. You open your door a sliver and when you don’t see Dean in the hall, you poke your head out of your room. No one is in nearby. You utter a soft thank you to no one in particular and head for the showers. The room is large and clearly made for multiple people, but you hope you won’t be disturbed.

You unbutton Dean’s shirt that you stole the first day you arrived and hang it on a small hook you find, along with your leggings and matching set of lace bra and underwear. You search some of the shower stalls and find some soap and shampoo that clearly belongs to the brothers. You settle on the ones that smell of Dean, hoping he won’t mind. You shiver slightly at the feel of the cold tiles under your feet and start the water. Somehow it’s wonderfully warm right away. Just having the water cascade over your body feels amazing. The soap feels marvelous as you scrub away the dirt and grime of the last day. You wish you could scrub your brain clear of the memories and visual of seeing the dead woman on the floor of the library. Instead, you settle for what you can actually achieve and continue scrubbing your body.  
The feel of the water is so entrancing and blissfully amazing, you start to sing. You can hear your voice echoing off the tiled walls and you find yourself getting lost in the simple pleasure of the shower. Your mind starts to drift to Dean and when you saw him in his room earlier.  
As you soap your body, your hands start to wander and linger in places that bring you more pleasure. Your breasts feel heavy in your palms and you massage them, eliciting a slight moan.  
Your eyes snap open.  
The moan did not come from your lips.

You whip your head around to see Dean standing in the bathroom with you. He’s dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, but that’s not where your eyes linger. His hand is palming his erection through his jeans. Just knowing he’s hard from staring at you showering makes you tremble. Your body instantly reacts to seeing him. You ache for him, for everything that he can offer. One word comes to mind seeing him. Pleasure.  
Fuck.  
You should feel embarrassed, you should feel a whole lot of things, but right now, you’re too focused on Dean and his piercing green eyes staring at you; taking in everything that you are. You don’t know precisely what it is, but you feel confidence radiating from you. You feel like a new woman. A strength you didn’t know you possessed. Something just feels right, that it’s the two of you. No angel named Serafina. Its you and Dean. Like God said it should be.

Dean stares at you when suddenly his eyes blow wide and he looks up past your head.  
“Y/N, what the fuck?”  
You start to tremble as you see it too. You see yourself in the mirror behind Dean’s head. Wings. Wings are sprouting around you; from you. They are pure white with gold tips. When you move and the water touches them, you shiver and a silvery glow is given off of them.  
What?

You somehow know they are yours, but they shouldn’t be. You’re you. You’re human, wait no she said you weren’t. You’re… you’re… an angel?  
No no no no no. Your vision goes black.

_“Well hello again Y/N.” God a.k.a. Chuck says staring at you._  
_ You look down and thankfully you’re wearing a white robe._  
_ “I did not think that would happen so soon. Your connection to Dean is stronger than I could have hoped for. You are becoming what you were meant to be.”_  
_ “What does that mean?” you ask. Because this is some fucked up shit._  
_ “You were never truly human, which is why I believe that Serafina was able to take you as a vessel without your knowledge or consent. I believe she said this already, but when I made the rules, I was perhaps too explicit. I deemed that the host, a human, would have to consent. She saw around that. However, that is why I took her from your body. I removed her so that you can be yourself. I did it as soon as I found out.”_  
_ “If I’m not human, what am I?” It’s the only thing you grasp from what he says._  
_ “Have you not felt the compelling need to be good? To find ways to help others? This is your angelic nature coming through. You are one of a kind my child. Half angel, half human. You are Nephilim, but you were not born like the others. I created you special.”_  
_ What in the actual fuck!?_  
_ You want to ask questions. There’s a million of them running through your brain, but none of the come out instead something else passes your lips._  
_ “I have wings,” you say. It feels like you are going into shock._  
_ “Yes and no,” he says. “They do not exist in the sense that anyone can see, touch and feel them. They are an extension of your grace, which can only be seen by you and your soul mate.” Chuck looks at you and tilts his head sideways, reminding you of Castiel._  
_ “Speaking of your soul mate, I have taken too much time from you, go now.”_

You’re on the floor in the shower room. The tiles are still cold beneath your body and you shiver slightly. The water has been turned off and you see bare feet in front of you. Your eyes lift up and you see Dean standing just outside the shower. Concern is etched on his face.

“Y/N?” He says, barely above a whisper.  
You want to tell him everything is alright. That everything is as it should be. That God’s plan is in motion. That you’re in God’s plan. You’ve spoken to him yet again - a miracle in itself.  
All that escapes is a hiccough as tears stream down your face. You’re not sure if they are happy, sad or confused tears. It might even be a combination of all three. You reach out and Dean picks you up, cradling your naked body close to him.  
“You have wings,” he whispers into your ear as he pulls you tighter against his body as if shielding you from the world that surrounds you.  
You want to tell him everything, but you can’t speak. Not yet. So instead, you nod. He walks you to his room and he sits on his bed with you cradled in his arms, slowly rocking you. It seems like forever later when you’re finally able to speak and tell him what you know. It somehow doesn’t even faze him.  
“I knew it had to be you,” he says. “Even when I found out Serafina was gone, I was drawn to you. Ain’t gonna lie, it felt fucking wrong at the beginning. Well it felt fucking wrong when I...”  
“But now it just feels right.” You respond cutting him off from going to a dark place and bringing back the memory of the woman on the library floor. He nods before resting his chin on your head.  
You tilt your head and smile at him. Somehow everything does feel right. It feels like you were meant to be here. All of the anger, hurt and confusion of the past month melt away.

It doesn’t matter that you missed out on six years of your life. It doesn’t matter that monsters, demons and angels exist. It doesn’t matter that you’re half freaking angel. None of it matters, because you’re here with him.

“Please Dean,” you say, “make love to me.”  
“Princess, I’ve been waiting my whole goddamn life for you to say that.” Dean lifts your chin and places a gentle kiss on your lips. Your tongue skirts across his lower lip, asking for permission. You find he’s moaning and opening up for you. You dig your hand into the hair at the back of his head and pull him closer to you. You twist against him and he helps you maneuver yourself so you’re now straddling his legs. His rough hand trails down your back and holds your hip. You suddenly remember you’re already naked as Dean starts grinding you against his erection. You need to be closer. It’s hard to take, being so close, yet so far from the satisfaction of feeling him inside you. Dean feels your urgency and lifts you off him, with little effort.

Standing he turns and lays you back on the bed, with your feet hanging over the edge. Dropping to his knees, he smiles devilishly at you and grips your thighs, spreading them so he can taste you. You gasp in a breath as he kisses and nips his way up your spread thighs.  
“Please,” you beg him.  
Dean only responds with a slight hum of approval when his tongue meets your most sensitive area. A moan escapes you as he expertly teases and toys with your body, bringing you closer and closer to the release you seek. Your hands grip his hair as his scruff rubs your over sensitive thighs and his tongue delves into you. You reach a peak and before Dean can pull away, you thrust your hips up to meet his face and feel waves of pleasure crash over your body. A warmth spreads through you like wildfire. It’s as though your soul needs to be released. You feel them before Dean notices them. Your wings are back.  
“Beautiful,” Dean whispers as lifts you and pushes you further back onto the bed. He crawls up your body to kiss you and you taste yourself on his tongue. Somehow, and you don’t know when, he undressed himself.  
Something about your wings being free feels right. It’s as though you’re sharing your whole self; your true self with Dean. He enters you in a smooth stroke and you feel full to the brim. But it’s more than that. You feel whole. You feel like everything makes sense.  
“Fuck baby,” Dean says as he starts to thrust into you. “So fucking wet for me.”  
You moan. You wish you have words for how complete and utterly perfect he feels. But you are too caught up staring into his green eyes. Too caught up in the moment of finding your other half. You lift your hips to meet his thrusts and Dean moans.  
You grip his hips and pull him harder into you.  
“Fuck Y/N,” he says. “Not gonna last much longer with you doing that.”  
You smirk and pull him harder down to you, squeezing your internal muscles to grip him harder inside you. You feel him starting to lose control and you can tell he knows he won’t last much longer. He brings his fingers between the two of you, finding your sensitive nub and applies pressure. It’s almost enough, you’re so close. Dean’s other hand grazes your wing. Although you were told they don’t really exist; they do for you and Dean and you shiver with excitement as you feel his caress of the feathers that are an extension of your grace. Somehow, it was all you needed and you find your release, exploding with pleasure. You cry out and hear Dean do the same as he finds his own release.

He drops down onto you, careful not to put all his weight on you. You feel your wings folding back into your body as you relax in complete and utter satisfaction.  
“That was…” you say. It doesn’t really need any words. It was fucking everything.  
“Ya,” Dean says and kisses your forehead before rolling beside you and pulling you close, tucking you into his body. Your breathing returns to normal and you can feel Dean has fallen asleep. You nestle in closer to him. A sigh escapes your lips as you start to drift to sleep.

You finally have your own memory with Dean and you have plans to make more.  
So many more.


End file.
